


One Last Prank

by Shmiggles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, Hogwarts Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 04:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20168098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmiggles/pseuds/Shmiggles
Summary: Hagrid drew himself up proudly. ‘He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you – gettin’ things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see.Hagrid might be trustworthy enough to fetch Harry from the Dursleys, but the magic involved in all those letters was a little bit beyond him. But who on Earth could Hagrid get to help him with this vital task?





	One Last Prank

Remus Lupin, B.A. (Bristol, forged), P.G.C.E. (Reading, forged), was sitting in his musty basement flat, charming a red Biro to mark Latin vocabulary tests. He’d reached that point in the pile of papers where he no longer needed to check his answer key—he’d been through it so many times that he’d memorised the whole thing. He could have charmed the pen to do all the marking itself, but that would take more work than it was worth—he’d have to teach the pen all the correct answers, as well as how to interpret his pupils’ godawful handwriting. No, much easier to just let it do the ticking and crossing.

A wizard he might be, and a fairly decent classroom teacher to boot (even if he said so himself), but Remus was unable to hold down a regular job, whether magical or Muggle, by virtue of his lycanthropy. He might only be absent from work a few days per month, but that, in combination with his generally haggard appearance, made most schools wary of employing him. The odd Confundus or Persuasion Charm here or there to extract a favourable reference was one thing; doing it to an entire school over an extended period was quite another. Consequently, here he was, in a small basement flat in Liverpool, in yet another short-term contract teaching position for some run-down grammar school somewhere in the North.

He’d had so many of these jobs that he’d forgotten not only how many he’d had, but also the name of the current school, or even the town where it was located. Apparition made such knowledge irrelevant.

He had a standard procedure: Apparate in in the morning, Apparate home in the afternoon, and in between, teach as best he could in the classroom, and pretend to give a shit about the school and its politics in the staffroom.

In the interview for his current job—Remus _thought_ it was for the current one—the headteacher had mainly expressed relief that there had been any applicants at all for the position. Latin teachers were hard to come by, especially in the middle of term. The headteacher had been vague on why the position had come up—the previous teacher had simply disappeared—and Remus hadn’t pressed him. Work was work, and some things, he felt, he was better off not knowing.

Remus was stirred—shocked, really—from his melancholy reverie by a thunderous knock at the door. With a twitch of his wand, the Biro fell to the stack of papers; slowly, Remus stood and walked the couple of yards around his single bed to the door. Cautiously, he opened the door a smidgen and peered through the narrow opening. Recognising his unannounced visitor, he pulled the door open wide and smiled. ‘Hagrid!’ he exclaimed by way of greeting.

‘Remus!’ was the equally enthusiastic response. ‘How are yeh?’

‘I’m—’ Remus stumbled; he couldn’t claim to be fine, not to Hagrid, who would see through that in an instant. ‘… well enough,’ was his reply. ‘Er, why don’t you come in?’

‘Sure, thanks,’ Hagrid said, smiling, and stooped to enter the little bedsit.

Remus looked around the small room, wondering where he could put his oversized guest. ‘Uh, why don’t you have a seat?’ he offered, gesturing to his bed.

‘Thanks,’ Hagrid said, and sat on the bed, which creaked ominously under his weight. Even seated, Hagrid’s head nearly brushed the ceiling.

‘Cup of tea?’ Remus asked.

‘No thanks, don’ wan’ ter impose myself too much,’ Hagrid said. ‘’Specially since I’ve come ter ask a favour.’

Remus settled himself in the rickety wooden chair next to his desk. ‘Sure, what is it?’

Hagrid sighed. ‘It’s abou’ Harry… Harry Potter.’

Remus found himself standing and panicking. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’

‘It’s fine, Remus,’ Hagrid said, in a violent attempt to be reassuring. ‘Nothing’s happened, no’ tha’ I know of, at any rate. It’s jus’ tha’ it’s time for him ter come ter Hogwarts.’

Remus sank back into the chair. Harry was eleven now? No, not quite yet—not until the thirty-first. Where had the time gone? It seemed only yesterday that he was playing with baby Harry, while James and Lily tried not to look too worried about the future. It seemed only yesterday that that future was robbed from them, from Harry, _from Remus_. James had promised so much help, and Remus was sure that with his connections, that James would have followed through, and fought for reform and a better life for Remus after the war, and here Remus was, a decade later, almost but not quite his late parents’ worst fear.

Had it really been ten years that Remus had pissed away, letting himself be kicked around from job to job?

‘Right,’ Remus managed to say, pulling himself back into the present.

‘An’ Professor Dumbledore asked me ter collec’ Harry personally,’ Hagrid said. He puffed out his chest in pride. ‘But then he said tha’ there migh’ be some trouble getting a hold of ’im.’

‘Right,’ Remus said again, still feeling a bit shocked at his present circumstances.

‘An’ I don’ really know wha’ ter do,’ Hagrid said in a rush, ‘I don’ really know much abou’ Muggles, an’ I remember Lily telling me tha’ ’er sister _really_ don’ like magic, an’ I didn’ wan’ ter ask Professor Dumbledore fer ’elp, seein’ as he’s the one that’s trusted me with this an’ all, an’ I couldn’ ask Professor McGonagall fer ’elp, seein’ as this sorta thing is usually ’er job anyway, an’ I don’ know the other Professors all tha’ well—’

Hagrid stopped, and looked at Remus expectantly. It took Remus a while to realise what Hagrid was asking for. ‘Sure, I’ll help you,’ Remus said.

‘Thanks, Remus,’ Hagrid said, and his whole body seemed to relax. The bed sank a little lower.

Remus realised that Hagrid was still looking at him expectantly. ‘Right… there’s usually a letter, right?’ Remus asked.

‘That’s right… I go’ Harry’s ’ere,’ Hagrid said, starting to go through his innumerable pockets. After a few moments, he found the right one. ‘’ere it is,’ he said, handing the parchment envelope over to Remus.

Remus glanced at the address. ‘THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS?’ he bellowed. He felt himself rising out of the chair, but he was so incensed that he threw himself forwards as well, and landed face-first on the linoleum floor. ‘THEY KEEP HIM IN THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS?’

He knew exactly was the plan was now: storm into Number Four Privet Drive, take young Harry, magically lock all the doors and windows with the Dursleys inside, and set the place on fire. Cupboard under the stairs indeed—

‘WHA’?’ Hagrid shouted. ‘IS THA’ WHA’ IT SAYS?’

Hagrid tried to stand in anger himself, but immediately hit his head on the ceiling. He held his head in his hands, muttering darkly about hateful Muggles.

Remus managed to squash his rage and his plan with it. He couldn’t rescue Harry from living in a cupboard: _Remus_ nearly lived in a cupboard.

Remus struggled back into his chair while Hagrid described the Dursleys using every profanity he knew—which wasn’t all that many, Remus soon realised.

‘Right,’ Remus said, yet again, as Hagrid’s muttering eventually petered out. ‘Well, I guess you could send the letter, and see what happens,’ Remus offered.

‘All righ’,’ Hagrid said.

‘Do you know how to do a Disillusionment Charm, Hagrid?’ Remus asked.

‘Yeah, Professor Flitwick taugh’ me ’ow ter do one a while back,’ Hagrid said. ‘Makes it easier ter get’ aroun’ withou’ all the Muggles starin’.’

‘Right,’ Remus said. He needed to stop saying that. ‘Disillusion yourself early tomorrow morning, go and wait next to their front door, and as soon as the postman has put their post through the letterbox, put Harry’s letter in as well. Then listen and see what happens.’

‘Yeah, all righ,’ Hagrid said, nodding. ‘I’ll do tha’. I’ll come ’round termorrow evenin’ and let yer know how it goes.’

‘Good, I’ll see you then,’ Remus said.

‘Ta, then,’ Hagrid said, and as Remus bid his farewell, he left the tiny bedsit and went on his way, armed with a plan.

* * *

‘Tha’ Vernon Dursley bastard destroyed tha’ letter!’ Hagrid said as soon as Remus opened his door the following afternoon. ‘Pulled it outta Harry’s hand, argued with his wife, and then she destroyed it with some Muggle machine!’

Remus motioned for Hagrid to come in again and sit on the bed. ‘Right,’ he said. _He was doing it again._

‘What did they argue about?’ Remus asked after a moment’s thought, as he sat down in his chair.

‘Vernon Dursley thinks we’re daft and we’ll give up if Harry don’ reply,’ Hagrid said. ‘Petunia Dursley don’ think that, but she let ’im win the argument.’

‘Right,’ Remus said. _He really needed to stop saying that._ ‘So we send Harry another letter. They’ve decided there won’t be another, so they won’t be expecting it.’

‘Yeah, all righ’, Remus, I’ll do tha’!’ Hagrid beamed.

* * *

Remus had nipped down to the shops on his way home from school—a few potatoes, a couple of pre-packaged sausages, two tins of peas, a frozen chicken Kiev—and returned home to find Rubeus Hagrid on the verge of smashing his door in.

‘REMUS!’ Hagrid bellowed.

‘Behind you,’ Remus called, as cheerfully as he could manage, trying not to betray his concern for the door.

Hagrid started. ‘Oh, there yeh are,’ he said lamely.

They stood and looked at each other for a moment. ‘If you move out of the way,’ Remus said, ‘I can let us in.’

‘Oh, yeah, righ’,’ Hagrid said awkwardly, and moved away from the door.

Once they were inside, and Remus had spent thirty seconds putting his groceries away, Remus asked how the second letter had gone.

Hagrid scowled. ‘Harry didn’ even get ’is ’ands on it,’ he said. ‘The Dursleys’ fat lump of a boy got it instead, and ’is father took it.’

‘Right,’ Remus said, his eyes lighting up. _Oh Merlin, he was doing it again._ ‘We’ve set up a pattern now, so we can exploit that.’

‘Wha’ d’yeh mean?’ Hagrid asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

‘Well, the Dursleys will be expecting another letter tomorrow morning,’ Remus explained. ‘So once they’ve received it, they’ll go and destroy it. But while they’re doing that, send them a second letter, and possibly a third, for good measure.’

‘Tha’s brilliant, Remus!’ Hagrid said.

* * *

Remus was drinking a cup of tea and eyeing the papers on his desk warily: they were Year 7 quiz papers, and marking them was always a trying experience. He had nearly summoned the will to do something productive when he was rescued by the now-familiar knock on the door.

Remus nearly ran to the door and wrenched it open, to find a downcast-looking Hagrid on the other side. Hagrid shook his head sadly.

‘Didn’ work, Remus,’ he said quietly. ‘Dursley was sitting at the fron’ door—caught them all in ’is lap.’

Remus just looked at him. ‘You… you didn’t push all the letters through the slot at the same time, did you?’

Hagrid stared. ‘I… I shouldn’ ’ave done tha’.’

Remus decided it was time to take a more active rôle in this matter.

* * *

Early the next morning, Remus found himself standing outside Number Four Privet Drive with Hagrid, both of them Disillusioned, armed with a dozen Hogwarts letters for Harry. Remus could just imagine the look on McGonagall’s face when Hagrid asked for them.

‘Right,’ Remus said, ‘let’s get the first one through the letter box.’

This proved far easier said than done, because something seemed to have been done to the letter box to make this impossible.

‘Fine,’ Remus said, more to the letter box than Hagrid, ‘we’ll put six through here.’ After surreptitiously checking that no Muggles were looking, he levitated six of the letters through the cracks around the door.

‘Brillian’,’ Hagrid said.

‘Now, the rest, we’ll put through the back door,’ Remus said. As they crept around the side of the house, Remus noticed a small window that was open, so he slipped a letter in there, before pushing the remaining five through the cracks around the back door.

‘That should do it,’ Remus said. He didn’t think it would, but it was all he could do: it was a Friday, and he had to go to work.

* * *

Hagrid didn’t even need to be offered the bed to sit down on now. ‘Didn’ work,’ he said simply, as the bed sagged ever lower. ‘Dursley didn’ even go in to work—jus’ stay ’ome and blocked up all the doorways.’

‘Right,’ Remus said. He was doing it again. ‘Go and get twenty-four letters from McGonagall, and I’ll sit and think of a way of getting them into the house.’

Once Hagrid had returned to Hogwarts, and a—presumably—irate Professor McGonagall, Remus began to pace. ‘The doors have been boarded up...’ he muttered. ‘The window didn’t work...’

The sewer? No—not only would that be extremely difficult, but Harry probably wouldn’t want to be anywhere near a letter that had been delivered in that fashion.

Remus realised that the _real_ problem here wasn’t getting the letters into the house, since all of them already had. No, the real problem was making sure that Harry got them, and that the Dursleys didn’t.

It was also becoming increasingly clear that it wasn’t enough for Harry to simply _receive_ the letter: how would he act on it? How would he respond? Remus could tell that the Dursleys weren’t going to take Harry to Diagon Alley.

Harry’s letter would have to be delivered in person, as though Harry were Muggleborn.

Remus sat down. This was like something from the war.

No. This was from _before_ the war, this was something the Marauders would have done. Remus smiled, but then frowned. Remus’ rôle had always been to moderate things, to keep James and Sirius from going too far. It was always James and Sirius who came up with the initial idea, and now James was dead, and Sirius… _Sirius was to blame_.

Remus didn’t want to think about Sirius.

Remus was the last Marauder standing. He wasn’t going to let the Marauders end with a whimper—no, they had to go out with a bang. This was the Last Prank.

And it had to be a prank. It had to be a prank, because… because _fuck them_. Fuck the Dursleys for keeping Harry in a fucking cupboard, fuck them for keeping him from Hogwarts, _fuck them for being alive when James and Lily weren’t._

Remus found that he was pacing again.

Twenty-four letters. He had twenty-four letters. What could he do with twenty-four letters?

Remus found himself in front of the refrigerator. He opened it, and had an idea.

* * *

Saturday morning found Remus and Hagrid, Disillusioned, in front of Number Four Privet Drive. Remus had taken the liberty of double checking that the doors were, in fact, sealed shut.

Remus turned at the sound of an electric whine behind them. The milkman had arrived in Privet Drive.

Checking that no one was looking out of their windows—they weren’t at this hour on a Saturday morning—Remus broke his Disillusionment and waited for the milkman to reach Number Four.

‘Oh, hello,’ the milkman said, unsure, as he got out of the milk float.

Remus had no time for such pleasantries. ‘_Confundus_,’ he said, having pointed his wand at the milkman’s chest.

The milkman stopped in his tracks, holding his daily delivery for the Dursleys limply by his sides: two bottles of milk, and, just as Remus had hoped, two dozen eggs.

Remus hastily pulled the letters from his pocket and as quickly as he could, performed twenty-four switching spells, between each of the letters and each of the eggs. It was a pity James and… James and Peter weren’t here to see this; it was rather difficult, because not only were the eggs still inside their cartons, but he was switching a letter and its envelope with an egg yolk and its white each time.

Remus suddenly hoped that he’d done it correctly, not that it really mattered.

Once he’d finished with the switching spells, Remus patted the milkman on the shoulder. ‘All right, then, mate,’ he said.

The milkman turned and looked at him, still looking rather dazed.

‘Looks like it’s two bottles of milk and two dozens eggs for Number Four, right?’ Remus said reassuringly.

The milkman nodded, still confused, and lumbered along the garden path. Remus Disillusioned himself and watched as the milkman pressed the electric doorbell—it took him four tries to get his finger on the little button—and then as he had to lean across the garden bed to pass the milk and the eggs through an open window to a particularly harried-looking Petunia Dursley.

Remus winced a little as the milkman narrowly avoided losing his balance entirely, but took a great deal of satisfaction in seeing how Lily’s sister had aged. The change since the last time he had seen her—James and Lily’s wedding—was rather like the change in half a lemon before and after its meeting with a juicer.

After the milkman moved on to the next house, Remus made his way over to where he could just make out Hagrid’s Disillusioned form. ‘Well, that’s done,’ he said.

‘D’yeh think Harry’ll get one o’ them letters?’ Hagrid asked.

Remus paused. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ Hagrid said.

‘But I think we’ll drive Vernon and Petunia Dursley batshit insane.’

Hagrid chuckled.

They spent the morning sitting under the windowsill, listening to Vernon Dursley trying with increasing desperation to find someone on the telephone who would take his complaints seriously, while celebrating with a bag of sticky buns that Remus had brought to celebrate.

* * *

‘Look, er, Remus,’ Hagrid said uncomfortably. ‘About these letters.’

Remus looked across his bedsit at him.

‘Professor McGonagall, she’s… she’s getting a bit… Yer know there’s that thing she does with her eyes when she’s angry?’

Remus vividly recalled the way McGonagall’s eyes seemed to flash—he’d been on the receiving end of it rather a lot at school. He looked at the enormous bag Hagrid was holding. ‘I suppose one hundred thousand letters is rather a lot.’

‘Madam Hooch wasn’ too keen on lending me two brooms neither,’ Hagrid added reproachfully.

‘Yes, but we need to get the Dursleys out of the house,’ Remus explained.

‘What? Why?’ Hagrid asked.

‘Because...’ Remus paused. ‘Because it’s not just about getting the letters to Harry. If the Dursleys are putting this much effort into keeping the letters from Harry, then it’s not going to be enough to just give him the letter, is it? I mean, they’re not going to go, “Well, all right, you’ve got the letter, so we’d better get you off to Diagon Alley,” then, are they?

‘So someone’s going to have to talk to Harry, and, well, rescue him, I suppose. And...’ Remus took a deep breath. ‘And it’s going to have to be you, Hagrid.’

‘Wha’, me?’ Hagrid said, shocked.

‘Yes, you, Hagrid,’ Remus said wearily. ‘If I do it, I’ll just end up having a nervous breakdown over what happened to James and Lily and Peter and Harry, and… and… and _what could have been—_’

Remus realised that he was starting to cry. He took a few moments to pull himself together. ‘All Harry’s ever known is living in a cupboard,’ Remus said quietly. ‘He needs someone to look after him, to protect him, to… to fight his battles for him. He needs _you_ Hagrid.’

Hagrid nodded. Remus looked into his eyes, and saw that both of them were trying not to cry now.

Ten minutes later, they’d pulled themselves together enough to Disillusion themselves and Apparate to the park at the end of Privet Drive. They mounted the borrowed broomsticks and slowly flew up onto the Dursleys’ roof, landing on either side of the chimney.

They stood on the roof there, for hours, it seemed, until the sounds of the Dursley family—and Harry—sitting down at the table to eat breakfast drifted up the chimney to them.

Remus tapped Hagrid on the shoulder. Hagrid jumped slightly, and had to hold on to the chimney to avoid falling. Once he’d regained his balance, he opened the neck of the bag of letters, and Remus drew his wand.

Two nifty bits of wandwork later, some of the letters—thirty or forty, it didn’t really matter—were flying down the chimney in single file: just enough to get their attention. Remus gave it a couple of seconds, and then, just he heard Vernon Dursley shout, ‘Out, Out!’ he sent the rest of them down. Remus heard a door slam over the noise of the letters, and then waited.

It was a good couple of minutes after the last letter had pelted into the Dursley home that Vernon Dursley crashed through the front door, followed by his wife, son and nephew. Each of the Dursleys carried a couple of suitcases; Harry carried a school bag. The four of them piled into the family car.

‘Right,’ Remus said, and Hagrid jumped again. Once Hagrid had righted himself, Remus added, ‘Well, we’d better follow them.’

Still Disillusioned, Remus and Hagrid mounted their brooms and followed Vernon Dursley’s car. As they flew, the two of them chatted, partly so that Remus could be sure that Hagrid was still there. Hagrid told Remus about all the goings on at Hogwarts: the animals in the Forbidden Forest (Hagrid didn’t seem to notice that Remus knew more about the Forest than an ordinary alumnus of Hogwarts ought to know); the teaching staff (which had shrunk to just one teacher per subject, now that enrolments had fallen because of the drop-off of births during the war); and the students (the chief troublemakers now seemed to be two Weasley twins, who were the nephews of Gideon and Fabian Prewett).

Remus noticed (although Hagrid didn’t seem to) that Vernon Dursley was turning the car around every now and then, and heading back towards Surrey every now and then, before continuing North. Clearly, he was afraid of precisely what was happening to him: that he was being followed by his tormentors.

Eventually, the car stopped outside a mediocre-looking hotel on the edge of a town called Cokeworth—the name tickled something in Remus’ memory, but he couldn’t place it—its four occupants headed inside. They waited outside, just long enough to be sure that they would indeed be staying here that night.

‘Right,’ Remus said, wincing internally at this verbal tic he somehow seemed to have developed. ‘We’ve forced them out of their home, so they must be pretty on edge. But I think we need to keep it up—another fifty letters tomorrow morning should do the trick.’

Hagrid seemed unsure. ‘I dunno, Remus,’ he said. ‘Professor McGonagall was pretty ticked off ’bout them hundred thousand letters.’

‘Come on Hagrid,’ Remus wheedled. ‘I think we’ve nearly got them—it’s just fifty this time.’

* * *

The next morning found Remus and Hagrid back outside the Railview Hotel after spending the night, quite naturally, in their own beds. They surreptitiously slipped the fifty letters into the hotel’s mail—in other words, they sandwiched the stack of fifty letters between an overdue electricity bill and a charity letter with an enclosed coin asking for the coin back.

It was a Monday, Remus spent a good couple of minutes convincing himself that it was worth skipping work today—this was important, after all—before remembering that his school had broken up for the holidays on Friday, so it didn’t matter.

It was only half past seven when the Dursleys and Harry hurried out of the hotel and into the car. This was the first good look at Harry that Remus had got since he’d been sent off to the Dursleys. He looked exactly the same as James had at that age, except that James had been properly fed. Remus felt the anger rise up in him again.

The car sped out of the hotel’s car park. ‘Right,’ Remus said. ‘Let’s go.’

Disillusioned as usual, the two wizards—one a werewolf, the other a half giant—mounted their broomsticks and took off in chase.

To keep sure that Hagrid was still there, Remus chatted with him again, but it was a little more difficult today: Vernon Dursley seemed to have no particular destination in mind. He would simply stop somewhere secluded, get out, have a look around, and get back in the car.

Each time this happened, Remus got a little bit happier: not only was Vernon Dursley slowly losing his marbles, one by one, but also they were getting closer to the right time for Harry to be given his letter.

Finally, Dursley seemed to find what he was looking for: a tiny shack, perched on a little rock, out near the horizon in the North Sea. Remus and Hagrid stood high on the cliffs above the crashing waves, watching as the Dursleys—and Harry—rowed out to the little rock, as the sun went down behind the hills behind them.

When he felt that they were far enough out to sea, Remus removed the Disillusionment Charm from himself, and Hagrid did the same. ‘Right,’ Remus said, ‘I think this is it.’

Hagrid stared at him for a moment. ‘This is wha’?’ he asked.

‘This is it,’ Remus repeated. ‘The time to give Harry his letter in person.’

‘Yeah, all righ’,’ Hagrid said, nodding. He paused. ‘Why, though?’

Remus looked out to the shack. ‘Because Vernon Dursley’s gone nuts. Because it’s just the four of them out there, with no way of contacting anyone for help. Because you will just walk in there and have complete power over them there.’ Remus looked back at Hagrid. ‘Because out there, you’ll be free to do anything you need to do to get Harry to Hogwarts.’

Hagrid nodded.

‘Before you do that, though,’ Remus said, ‘you’ll need to go back to Professor McGonagall and get one more letter.’ He looked at his watch—a Muggle wristwatch, to blend in with the Muggles he worked with, rather than the traditional magical pocket watch—to check the time, but his attention was caught by the date. 30 July, why was that important? 30 July… _It was the day before Harry’s birthday._

‘Hagrid!’ Remus said sharply. ‘Harry’s birthday is tomorrow!’

‘His birthday?’ Hagrid shouted. ‘Crikey, we’d better get ’im something.’

‘It’s too late to buy something,’ Remus observed, ‘the shops are all closed now.’

‘I know,’ Hagrid said, ‘I’ll bake ’im a cake. I don’ think I’ve run out of anything I’ll need...’

‘Uh, Hagrid,’ Remus interjected, remembering his prior experiences with Hagrid’s culinary skills, ‘given that it’s, er, a little late in the day, it might be safer just to, ah, let the house elves bake the cake.’

Hagrid thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, yer probably right,’ he said.

‘Right,’ Remus said, feeling the need to summarise everything for Hagrid, ‘so you need to go and get one more letter for Harry, and a birthday cake for him.’

‘All right’,’ Hagrid said, ‘see yer in a jiffy.’ He Disapparated.

Remus stood alone on cliff, ten yards away from Vernon Dursley’s car, looking out to the hut on the rock. He wondered what sort of boy Harry was. Was he witty, like James? Was he snarky, like Lily? Did fight for the oppressed, like Lily, or against the oppressors, like James? Or was he completely downtrodden by the Dursleys?

He remembered the morning after James’ and Lily’s deaths, sitting in Dumbledore’s office, with Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, and a few other members of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had called Sirius and Peter to the meeting too, but they hadn’t shown up—it wasn’t until that afternoon that they had known why. They had discussed what was going to happen to baby Harry, once Hagrid had retrieved him, that was. They’d all had their ideas, but Dumbledore, as usual, walked into the room with a hand of trump cards: in this case, secret knowledge about some ancient magic that had saved Harry’s life that meant, for some reason, that Harry would be sent off to live with his Muggle relatives.

It hadn’t been much of a meeting—it was Dumbledore telling everyone what he was going to do. A rather unfortunate habit of his, in Remus’ opinion.

Harry had suffered, but Remus could take comfort in the fact that that suffering was about to end: Harry was finally going somewhere he could call home, where he would be treated well. There was something poetic about it, Remus thought: Hagrid had taken Harry from the magical world and delivered him to the Dursleys; now, Hagrid was taking him from the Dursleys and returning him back to the magical world.

It started to rain, so Remus cast a Warming Charm and a Shield Charm on himself to stay warm and dry. Despite this, however, his mood soured with the weather, so it was a welcome relief when a resounding crack from behind him signalled Hagrid’s return.

Remus checked his wristwatch again: it was five minutes to midnight. ‘Right,’ Remus said, cursing himself inwardly for his repetition of the word. Why was he doing it? Outwardly, he just ploughed on: ‘Got the cake and the letter?’

‘Yeah, tha’s righ’,’ Hagrid shouted cheerfully over the noise of the thunderstorm. ‘Grabbed a couple o’ other things as well—I don’ reckon they got all tha’ much food in there.’

‘Good thinking,’ Remus said. ‘So, ready then?’

Hagrid froze. ‘No—I… wha’ do I say?’ he stammered. He looked at his feet. ‘I’m really terrible a’ this sorta thing, I never know wha’ ter say...’

‘You don’t need to prepare a speech, Hagrid,’ Remus said. ‘Just walk in there and talk to him. He’s just—he’s just a boy. Just give him what he needs.’

By the light of the lightning storm that was now surrounding them, Hagrid looked a little better.

‘Look,’ Remus said, ‘Dumbledore chose _you_ for this. He could have sent McGonagall—this is her job, after all—but he sent you. You’re what Harry needs right now.’

‘All righ’,’ Hagrid said weakly, through a smile. ‘Thanks for everythin’,’ he added, ‘I couldn’ ’ave done it withou’ yeh, Remus.’

‘That’s quite all right, Hagrid,’ Remus managed to say. ‘I think… I think I needed this.’

Hagrid nodded and mounted his broom. Remus realised that he was still holding his, and shrunk it down so that it was only a couple of inches long. ‘Here,’ he said, and dropped it into one of the exterior pockets of Hagrid’s overcoat. ‘So you can return it to Madam Hooch.’

Hagrid nodded again, ‘Thanks again, Remus, I guess I’ll see yeh aroun’.’

Remus nodded as well. ‘Yes, I will, take care.’

Remus watched as Hagrid took off into the storm, and waited until he had disappeared. ‘Good luck, Harry.’

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this was going to be a fun story about Remus using Hagrid's little job as an opportunity to ruin the Dursley's lives, but Remus had a lot of issues to work through, so it ended up being about that instead.
> 
> Also, apologies to Professor McGonagall: one hundred thousand letters _is_ an awful lot.


End file.
